The Dead Man Walking Meal

For dinner tonight I had a bag of animal crackers and a 32 ounce Pepsi with extra ice, and I burped and didn't say excuse me. It was a Dead Man Walking Meal, like the scene in prison movies like The Green Mile or Dead Man Walking or Monster's Ball, when the condemned man gets to choose whatever he wants for his last meal, pork chops and potatoes and gravy and peach pie, maybe with two chocolate milks. I think once every week or two we ought to eat like a condemned man, just eat whatever you want.

The ideal way to do this would be to assemble your family or three or four of your closest friends, and make it an occasion, a festive celebratory time rather than merely wallowing in food indulgence. But as a culture we tend to box ourselves in about food, make ourselves miserable over it, full of guilt and shoulds. Occasionally, you should eat whatever you want. Just be sure to stop when you are full, and appropriately ramp up your activity level to match your intake. Don't try to reach an arbitrary body image goal through tortuous self denial. Get moving and start living, and truly enjoy what you eat. It's a way better formula.

It's particularly important to share meals with others. It's part of a fundamental human need. I've been in the basement just long enough. In the blog's comment section friend of the blog Brad from Eugene compares going to the basement to a trip to Vegas, and the analogy is humorous and apt. A short stay can be entertaining but it is no place to live. Food is meant to spiced with sharing and conversation, and sharing a memorable meal with friends and family can turned the condemned man to a redeemed one. I challenge each of you to share a meal this weekend with some people you truly love. Make it leisurely, and make conversation and storytelling the centerpiece of the evening and serve the dessert with a scoop of laughter and real whipped cream. Be sure to hug one another at the end, and make sincere plans to do it again and follow through with them. In doing so you have added years and enormous worth to your life. Turn off the TV and turn to each other, and sit at the table together. Have a last moonlit glass of wine on the deck under the stars, because this is what we were born for, to bond to each other, to savor each other. This is what fellowship really means. It isn't a trite boring word from church. It's the most precious and rewarding of human experiences, other than holding a child of your own flesh. I can't wait to get my arms around that bright alert happy grandbaby boy. He had his four month checkup today and he's 27 inches long and 16 lbs., and I'm recommending that Coach Belotti move him on the 2027 depth chart from outside linebacker to defensive end. I'm going out from the basement into the light of day: I'm moving tomorrow and after I get unpacked I'm taking the Vista Cruiser with the top down and heading for Selah for Kourtney's swim meet, two precious hours of rocking chair duty and a night game with the Yakima Bears. It's good to be Grandpa Golf. It's great to be alive on God's good earth.